


thinking thoughts of you and me

by Joana789



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Established Relationship, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, lucas deserves all the love and happiness, there are mentions of drinking but nothing too in your face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joana789/pseuds/Joana789
Summary: They are supposed to write about what they're most scared of.Which is — great. As if Lucas didn’t dislike literature enough already.





	thinking thoughts of you and me

**Author's Note:**

> did i really write a fic about a homework assignment only one day after my own exams ended? you bet  
> (it's not all about homework though, please don't get scared; the idea was inspired by [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648674)  
> go read it it's awesome)
> 
> title from "what a pleasure" by beach fossils

 

They are supposed to write about what they're most scared of.

Which is — great. As if Lucas didn’t dislike literature enough already.

The teacher says, ”Focus on your personal experience, okay?” and writes a date on the board, of when they’re supposed to turn the paper in. It’s next Monday.

Lucas’s gaze catches on it and then stays, until Imane nudges him with her elbow, saying, ”Just so you know, if you don’t write down the requirements right now, I’m not giving my notes to you later.”

  
———

  
”If you could be anywhere right now,” Lucas asks, ”where would you want to be?”

It’s past midnight. Lucas can hear Eliott’s steady heartbeat where he has his ear pressed to Eliott’s chest. All he can see are the dark shapes of furniture on the other side of the room and the numbers on the digital clock on his nightstand blinking in the dark and the faint outline of Eliott’s shoulder illuminated by them. It’s one of those nights when his mind doesn’t want to sleep even when his body does. That happens sometimes, when he’s tired and when something in his mind goes slightly sideways, and Lucas just keeps thinking and thinking and thinking. The night always feels a little heavier than it should, then. He wonders if that makes any sense at all.

Eliott is warm next to him, running hot everywhere they’re touching, his arm slung over Lucas’s waist to keep him close, and Lucas would think that he’s asleep if it wasn’t for his fingers tracing Lucas’s spine where his shirt rides up, a tiny movement. Lucas presses his ear closer to Eliott’s chest and counts his own breaths, matches them to the pace of Eliott’s heartbeat just because he can.

”I don’t know,” Eliott answers after a while, quietly, after Lucas counts to 30 and gets lost. His voice blends into the night, fits right in next to the sound of cars outside, sounds of the city drifting into the room through the open window. ”Where would you want to go?”

”I asked you first,” Lucas says. He tilts his head up, trying to catch Eliott’s gaze, but then Eliott’s hand tangles in his hair, lazily, familiar, and Lucas stays where he is, closing his eyes. He wonders if Eliott can feel Lucas’s lashes against his skin. He hopes so.

”But my answer depends on your answer,” Eliott tells him, sounding right on the verge of sleep. His hand in Lucas’s hair feels heavy. His arm around Lucas’s waist feels warm, a familiar weight. Lucas breathes in, breathes out.

”Why?”

”Because I wanna be where you are,” Eliott says. His hand on Lucas’s spine stills. ”And I’ll go wherever you wanna go. So?”

And Lucas thinks, _anywhere. Anywhere, with you._

  
———

  
They don’t rush things — or try not to, anyway, because minute by minute is one thing and being in love is another. Lucas moves back into his room and makes sure the lock on the door works, and Eliott spends every other night in his bed, now that he actually has one and doesn’t have to sleep on that godforsaken couch anymore.

Eliott asks him about it, once, smiling like he never ever stopped, ”Was the couch really _that_ bad?”

”Yes,” Lucas says. ”You’ve spent enough time on it to know that yourself.”

They’re supposed to be doing homework together, which Lucas should have known was a bad idea from the very beginning, but Eliott kissed him at the school gate, saying, ”We’re going to yours, then?” and how was Lucas supposed to say no to that, honestly. So here they are, sprawled on the bed side by side, Lucas with his chemistry notebook and Eliott pretending to go over literature. Neither of them touched their notes in half an hour.

Eliott props up on his elbow and casts Lucas a glance, turning towards him. His hair is a mess and his eyes are gleaming in the afternoon sun; Lucas’ gaze catches on his lips for a second too long before moving elsewhere. They’re mingling into each other’s spaces, curling like parentheses, centimeters apart, Eliott lying on his side and Lucas on his stomach. Eliott’s hand brushes Lucas’ arm when he plays with a page of his book.

”I mean, I don’t know,” Eliott is saying, tilts his head like he’s in deep thought, but Lucas can see a smirk starting to pull at the corner of his mouth already. ”I kind of liked it, you know.”

It makes Lucas frown, half-confused and half-sure it’s some kind of a joke. ”Are you serious?”

”Yeah,” Eliott tells him then, and then the beginnings of the smile break out into a wide grin before Eliott can stop it. He raises his eyebrows suggestively, says, ”Some really _cool things_ happened on there, it makes me feel almost nostalgic—” and then he starts laughing at Lucas’ slightly flustered _oh my god_ , the sound loud and free, and Lucas can’t help a smile on his own.

”I don’t know what your priorities are,” he says in retaliation, fighting his ridiculous abashment at the thought, ”but I actually prefer to have a door that locks instead of camping out in the middle of the living room while doing all the cool things you mean,” and it only makes Eliott grin wider as he smoothes a hand along the line of Lucas’ jaw, ducks his head down to press a kiss on his cheekbone.

”You have a point,” he giggles, kissing Lucas’ temple, then again and again, sweet. ”You have a point, actually.”

  
———

  
So what is Lucas afraid of?

  
———

  
The thing about fear is this — once it grows roots, it’s impossible to weed out.

He doesn’t think about it often, but sometimes he does. See, Lucas is good at it — at pushing thoughts onto the outskirts of his mind, at keeping the thoughts at bay. Somewhere where he can lock them away in the daylight and reach for them in the nighttime. Keep them around for only a second or two, feel the sting of them, then tuck them away again, for later. For good. He’s had a lot of practice.

He does that less and less, but it happens, still. It’s a sting as he writes a new message to his dad, wonders if he’ll reply this time and knows that he probably won’t. When he talks to his mom and she keeps smiling at him like nothing bad ever happened, even though they both know it did. When he lets his mind wander and remembers all the shitty things he did to Yann because he was looking for the sun at midnight like an idiot. Remembers all the shitty things he said to Eliott, once, thinks that Eliott is a much better person than Lucas himself if he was able to swallow it all down, push it away, forgive.

  
———

  
He walks Eliott all the way to his parents’ apartment on Wednesday after class; they hold hands throughout the whole bus ride there, and then during the walk from the bus station, too. Eliott lifts their tangled hands to his lips at one point, brushes a kiss against Lucas’s knuckles and Lucas almost stutters halfway through the story he’s telling.

”Come on,” Eliott tugs him to the front door of the apartment building once they’re there, ”You can just say ”Hi” and go.”

Lucas pretends to think about it as Eliott rocks on his feet, but then just rolls his eyes with a smile when Eliott mutters a _please, come on_. ”Just for a while.”

”Just for a while, scout’s honor,” Eliott tells him, makes a weird salute-like gesture, and before Lucas can tell him that it doesn’t mean anything if he was never a scout, he’s tugging him upstairs.

Eliott’s parents are in town for a visit, a couple of days here and then off to somewhere again. His mom makes dinner, and Lucas would love to stay for it, too, like Eliott insists, but he already promised Imane to meet up and go over the biology material before the test next week. He needs to be at her house in half an hour or she might never agree to help him again like she threatened last time, and he’d like to prevent that from happening. He tells Eliott as much as they climb up to the apartment and Eliott just shoots him a look over his shoulder.

”She likes you too much to do that,” he says, opening the door.

”That’s not true,” Lucas says, but weakly. Eliott raises an eyebrow at him, gestures for Lucas to come in first, then shuts the door behind them, shrugs off his jacket.

The whole apartment smells of spices already; there’s music coming in from the kitchen, followed by a low humming, slightly off tune. It stops seconds after the door shuts behind them, and then Eliott’s mom comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a towel, smiling brightly.

”Everything’s almost ready,” she says in the lieu of a hello, rises on her tiptoes to kiss her son’s cheek, then kisses Lucas’s cheek, too, unexpected. ”It’s nice to see you, Lucas.”

Lucas tries to ignore the weird urge to lift his hand to where Eliott’s mom kissed him and smiles politely instead. ”You too, Mrs. Demaury.”

It’s only his third time seeing Eliott’s parents, since they’re out of town so often. They’re nice people, warm and welcoming and seemingly fitting with one another like Lucas only has seen on TV or read in the books. There is something about the atmosphere they’ve created in their home that makes Lucas feel slightly off, every time he’s around.

They’re a real family. Maybe that’s what it is.

”Hello, Lucas!” he hears from the kitchen, Eliott’s dad in a spot Lucas can’t see from the hallway, so he pokes his head into the room. Mr. Demaury is the midst of chopping up onions and looks like he’s about to cry from it. Lucas waves at him a little lamely and he waves back.

”How have you been?” Eliott’s dad asks. He smiles the exact same smile that Eliott has.

”Good,” Lucas says, because he’s stellar at small talk, you see. ”I’m sorry the onions are making you cry, Mr. Demaury.”

Eliott snickers at that as he comes up behind Lucas and rests his chin at the top of Lucas’s head.

”Thank you,” Eliott’s dad says at that, shooting his son a look and then turning back to his task. ”You’re the only one who feels any compassion here.”

”Will you eat with us, Lucas?” Mrs. Demaury asks, ignoring her husband, and it makes Lucas smile. ”There’s more than enough for you, too.”

”I promised to meet up with a friend today, I’m sorry,” he tells her, and something like genuine disappointment flits across her features at that. Lucas writes it off as a trick of light. ”Just came to say "Hi".”

”That’s nice of you,” she says, and Eliott repeats it into Lucas’s hair, low enough only for him to hear, _yeah, you’re so nice, Lucas_ , which makes Lucas’s chest swell with affection, a sudden surge, there and then gone again, even though he knows Eliott's kidding. ”Next time then.”

”Yeah,” Lucas agrees, ”next time.”

He feels weird about it. Feels weird as he and Eliott lounge around the kitchen for a couple of minutes, feels weird when Eliott kisses him goodbye at the front door later, once, twice, thrice, drawing it out as if they aren’t supposed to see each other tomorrow. Lucas is not complaining, only melts into it until Eliott mutters, ”Have fun with Imane,” and Lucas is reminded that he’s supposed to be at her place in like fifteen minutes. He hears Eliott laugh at him as he scrambles down the stairs, calls out to him to shut up as a goodbye but without any real heat in the words. Eliott sends him a text approximately 10 seconds later. It’s a heart.

It feels weird when he’s sitting on a bus, and later when he’s arguing with Imane over their notes, later when he’s on his way back to his place. It’s one of those things he pushes away until he can’t anymore, until it bubbles up like a balloon someone wanted to keep under the surface of a lake.

On his walk back from the bus station, Lucas’s phone vibrates with a new text message. It’s a notification about a transfer to his bank account, the exact same amount as always, not more, not less.

He feels weird, and here’s why — looking at Eliott’s family makes him miss his own.

They used to be like that, too, is the thing. When Lucas was five, six, seven years old and everything was okay, in a different time and a different place. They used to go on vacation in the summer, go to the park on the weekends. His mom taught him how to play the piano every Thursday afternoon and sent him off to school with a kiss to his cheek every morning. His dad used to read him bedtime stories and always pretended not to see when Lucas very obviously fed his vegetables to their dog under the table at dinner. His parents used to dance around the living room in the evenings, with Lucas curled up on the couch. He used to think it was gross when he was eight. He used to think, _I can’t wait for the day when they stop._

Sometimes Lucas thinks it would be better for him if things between his parents were always shit; if he never knew what it’s like to have a full, loving family, he wouldn’t know what he’s supposed to be missing, right?

But he does. It’s not fair.

And now, it’s Eliott’s mom who presses kisses to Lucas’s cheek, Eliott’s dad who’s asking about his day. Imane’s parents smiled at him when he was leaving, too, saying, ”See you soon!”

It’s a stupid thing to get sad about, but that’s how he feels.

He sends his mom a text, _i’m sorry that we haven’t talked recently. i miss you._ To his dad, he sends, _thank you for the money._

A couple of minutes later, his mom sends him a Bible verse in reply, something about patience, and humility, and longing. His dad doesn’t respond at all.

Lucas remembers, acutely, as he stares at his phone with the city streets getting dark around him, how when he was smaller, he asked his dad once if he thought the world was a fair place. A child’s question, and he doesn’t even remember why he asked it in the first place. His dad said, ”I think most people get exactly what they deserve, son.”

Lucas pockets his phone and goes.

  
———

  
Later, he opens up a word document on his computer and types his name at the top of the page, then the title below it, and then stares at the blinking cursor for the next twenty minutes.

 _The thing I am scared of_ , the page tells him, in big letters.

Lucas closes the file without writing anything, tells himself he still has time. It’s just a stupid homework assignment anyway.

  
———

  
”Truth,” Basile says, ”or dare?”

Arthur says, ”This is ridiculous.”

It really is. The party is going wild in the living room, the bass pouring through the speakers and people laughing and mingling on the dance floor, while Lucas is — well, here. Sitting on the floor in a circle with his friends and a few other people he doesn’t think he knows, more than slightly tipsy, playing fucking truth or dare, of all things, or something between that and spin the bottle, anyway. Basile had ushered them all in here and made them sit on the floor and then whipped out an empty bottle of beer out of nowhere and it was already too late to escape by then, even though they all kept telling him that this was not how this game worked.

The only thing that’s making it all slightly less dumb is Eliott’s weight against Lucas’s side where he’s sitting next to him.

”Don’t try to get out of this, dude,” Basile says, shooting Arthur a look that is probably meant to be warning, except that Basile is too far gone at this point, so it just looks weird. ”Truth or dare?”

”Fine, Jesus. Truth.”

”Who,” Basile says, ”is the person you hate the most and why?”

Arthur very obviously pretends to think about it before he says, ”You, for making me play this game right now,” while looking Basile straight in the eye, and Lucas can’t help the laugh that escapes him, especially when others start laughing, too.

Because yeah, the game sucks, kind of, but the rest is fine. Lucas has been stressing over too many things at once again, has been getting lost in his own head, thinking about school and family and everything else. It’s good not to think about anything for a while. Good to just spend some time with his friends, with Eliott leaning into his side, getting tipsy and loose-limbed and flushed, feeling the bass thrumming in his veins. He lets his hand trail down Eliott’s arm, centimeters from his own, then tangles their fingers together without looking.

Arthur spins the bottle this time, even though Basile complains, and Lucas watches it until it stops, pointing at Eliott.

”Truth or dare,” Arthur asks.

Eliott squeezes Lucas’s hand in his. ”Dare.”

When Lucas turns and looks at him, Eliott is already smiling brightly with a glint in his eyes, slightly flushed from the alcohol and the overall commotion of the party. Lucas feels light-headed at the sight; then briefly wonders if it’s because he’s drunk too much or if it’s just Eliott.

”Okay,” Arthur says, raising his eyebrows, and it takes him just a few seconds to come up with, ”Kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

”Dude,” Basile says, ”he’d have to, like, kiss _himself_ ,” and Lucas faintly registers Yann and Mika cackling across the room at the comment, but Eliott just shrugs a little sheepishly, muttering, _well, that’s easy_ , and then turns and cups Lucas’s face and kisses him right there and then.

Time gets a little wobbly after that. Lucas closes his eyes and angles his head and everything that isn’t Eliott’s lips or Eliott’s warmth kind of just fades away. Maybe playing this game wasn’t such a bad idea after all, if he gets to kiss Eliott just like that. His heartbeat is thrumming in his veins, almost matching the rhythm of the song from behind the wall.

”You two need to get a room, I swear, you're both insufferable,” Emma mutters when Eliott moves away and Lucas regains the ability to process his surroundings again, but she’s smiling widely as she says it. Lucas smiles back at her.

”More like boring,” Arthur says, and then, ”I should’ve known he’d choose Lucas anyway.”

Eliott laughs at that, throws his arm around Lucas’s shoulders and drags him closer, presses another quick kiss to his hair.

”Not boring,” he says, but it’s quiet enough that Lucas doesn’t think anyone else can hear the words, ”Just in love.”

  
———

  
Later, when they’re collectively staggering to the nearest bus stop, Yann leans a bit more heavily on Lucas between one step and the next and then all of a sudden says, words slurring together a little, ”You seem happy,” and then, ”Are you happy?”

That’s — unexpected, a little. Lucas blinks, repeats the question in his mind, then asks, ”Is that what you think about when you’re drunk?”

He’s sobered up a little by this point, although most of his thoughts are still hazy. It’s probably closer to dawn than to midnight right now, and the streets are quiet and dark but familiar despite it all, still. Eliott is behind them somewhere, saying goodbye to Sofiane. Arthur and Basile went ahead with a few other people and have already disappeared behind a corner, wobbly and laughing at each other.

”You’re my best friend, you know,” Yann says, and stops on the sidewalk, abruptly. His expression is serious. He gets like this sometimes in the strangest moments when Lucas least expects it. Lucas used to read into it a lot, before; now, he just breathes the night air in and watches as Yann sways on his feet a little. ”Of course I think about you.”

”Okay,” Lucas says, letting a tentative smile onto his face, but still not letting go of Yann entirely, because he doesn’t trust his balance fully yet. ”I’m doing fine. Why are you asking?”

”Just wanted to make sure."

It’s— such a simple and honest statement that it makes something warm unfurl in Lucas’s chest. And then Yann says, ”You deserve all the happiness you can get, you know.”

He means it. Yann’s leaning on Lucas in the middle of the sidewalk at 4 in the morning on a Saturday and he means it, Lucas realizes with slight bewilderment, Yann means everything he’s saying. Lucas blinks up at him, at his solemn face, a weird thing after a whole night of drinking and having fun, looks at his best friend who’s decided that right now is the best time to make Lucas feel like he’s more than he really is, and he thinks, stupidly grateful, _thank you, thank you_.

”As long as you guys are around,” he says after a couple of seconds instead, when he finds his voice, ”I’ll be okay.”

  
———

  
On Saturday, he drags himself out to the kitchen at roughly 2 pm, makes himself tea in an attempt to somewhat ease the hangover and then joins Mika and Lisa in the living room. They’re watching reruns of some TV show Lucas vaguely remembers having seen before. He stays around anyway, rolls his eyes at Mika’s running commentary and argues with Lisa over the volume being too high.

When Manon comes over, later, a tray of muffins in her hands, she only shoots them a glance and, chuckling, asks, ”Having fun?”

And honestly, Lucas thinks in the back of his head, fighting Mika off of him when Eliott sends him a text and Mika immediately tries to read it over Lucas’s shoulder at one point, yeah. It’s not bad at all.

  
———

  
So, here's how it is, eventually — on Sunday, Lucas finally writes the goddamn assignment, stares at the words until he feels lighter.

His assignment starts with, _”I am scared of people leaving me behind.”_

It ends with, _”Some of them will. Some of them won’t. That’s okay.”_

  
———

  
Eliott waits for him by his classroom when Lucas gets out of literature. He’s leaning against a wall, typing something on his phone, but raises his head before Lucas can even call out to him. The smile that lights up his whole face is breathtaking.

”Ready to go?” Eliott asks, kisses him in a lieu of _hello_ as soon as Lucas gets close, and Lucas lets a smile bloom on his face.

”Yeah,” he says, takes Eliott’s hand, holds on tight, ”Let’s go."

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://oheliotts.tumblr.com)   
>  [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/joana789)


End file.
